TRY
by shoetingstar
Summary: Reese has kept his promise and brought Taylor back to Carter alive. How does this change Carter and Reese's relationship? A CaReese short story from Carter's POV. Romance no smut this time!
1. Chapter 1

TRY  
A Carter/Reese Story

By shoetingstar

A short story about Reese and Carter from Carter's POV (w/some Finch appearances!).

I wrote this as a thank you for the super awesome magicb0x who has a great POI tumblr and makes amazing gifsets. Her prompt was to write something about "right after John have saved Taylor? Something Carter POV." The title and bits of the theme was inspired by the song Try by P!nk (below). There are references to Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice (below). I'm coming off a horrible, evil case of writer's block so this took longer than it should. But I hope you enjoy it magicb0x!

PANIC ROOM

"THIS. Can NOT be happening!" Carter said in growing frustration and disbelief.

"I did warn you," Reese said.

"I thought you were exaggerating," Carter replied. "I thought you meant the old lady was just senile – not homicidal!"

"Poison – old fashioned and still quite effective," he explained while punching numbers combinations on the keypad. "Long-standing member of an anti-Nazi group. Noble cause, however, their targets include the families of the Nazi member…"

Her eyes tried to uncover every inch of the locked, window-less space, leading her to understand why it was called a panic room. Cellphones were even useless, the signals blocked. The small room didn't volunteer any helpful clues and they found themselves returning to the elaborate security system near the entrance.

John was cool as the North Pole, as usual. However, his appearance was not his usual. The signature suit was MIA, replaced by the uniform of crisp blue medical scrubs. Nurse Reese, or rather, his cover Nurse John Randall, had been on-call to attend to Mrs. Norange, their latest Person of Interest.

"Old Grandma – pretty hardcore," Carter said, only slightly amused. "Taylor's play is tonight. Thank God I don't have to drive him but I would like to see my only child's stage debut."

Unfortunately, John couldn't offer Carter any promises of making the play on time.

"I lost Finch. We may be here a while."

TEN SESSIONS

"Do you believe in God?"

His voice was the calm, neutral tone Carter expected from a therapist. It communicated that he wasn't overly invested in her giving one particular response. It was an exploration, a mental archaeological dig to uncover what lies beneath. Instead of a mysterious, far-off location, the site was within the quiet walls of Dr. Dennis Hudson's home office. He sat across from her, only a mahogany coffee table between their chairs. It was the third week of what had been a chess match of sorts.

"Of course, I believe in God. I have faith. I wouldn't be alive if I didn't."

She grew up in church – her parents made sure of that. She prayed and thanked God each day. Right now, she was just anxious to get back to her job. According to her pain in the ass boss, Captain Womack, the job was the reason she was required to attend these tedious therapy sessions. Specifically, he was referring to the recent events she'd rather not discuss. She disagreed but was strongly advised to cooperate. Ten sessions, one hour a week was doable, almost like a long coffee break. It was a lunch break really, she told herself. It was just a lunch-slash-coffee break with her new, highly attentive friend, Dr. Hudson. However, the reality was yielding something more complex than she had imagined.

Hudson casually scratched his trim ginger beard and recorded more notes.

_Who knew I was so interesting_, she thought.

"You are used to being on this side," Hudson said. "…Asking the interrogation questions. Being the one in control."

"You get a lot of cops in this chair?"

"I have an arrangement with your precinct. I'm familiar with the particular needs and struggles of a law enforcement officer."

"With all due respect, this is frankly a waste of my time and definitely not voluntary on my part," she explained.

"Sure. What is a better use of your time?"

"I have cases on my desk that need to be solved…Murderers that need to be caught. How is this helping me do that?"

She looked at clock on Hudson's desk. They still had forty-five minutes to burn.

"Tell me about your most pressing case."

She let out a tedious breath. "They're all priorities as far as I'm concerned," she challenged. He nodded in understanding and she softened a bit. "Let's see…I got a kid two weeks from his 16th birthday. He's riding in a car with two friends, car pulls up behind them and shoots out the car. He's shot multiple times. They pulled him from the car and bleeds to death in the streets. Everyone says he's a good kid. Good family. He wasn't in a gang or any trouble. As usual, no one will talk."

"That has to be frustrating. You're only trying to do your job."

Carter shrugged it off. "That's how my day goes. Nothing comes easy. I've learned that many times."

"His family must be devastated. Their child is gone. All their hopes for their son, or brother or grandson and his future – it's all gone."

Joss was familiar with the scenario. And only days ago…If things had gone differently, she would be going through it again now. A new fresh grave would have been dug alongside the aged one she still couldn't leave behind.

_But he is here. You still have him._

"That's why I have to find out who did it. For the families."

"Who looks out for your family?"

"I do."

"With your permission I spoke to your boss and colleagues. He had nothing but praise for you. You have an outstanding record. His concern was about recent events."

"Events I wouldn't have burdened him with," she said, softly defiant, "…But my co-worker took that option away."

Hudson looked at his notes. "There was a…Fusco? And a Szymanski? He in particular expressed great concerned."

"Fusco is my partner. Szymanski - Well, I'm not sure if he felt concern or wanted to get back at me for nearly getting him killed."

"Was that the situation with the tall man, with dark hair?" Hudson said.

Well, he certainly took thorough notes.

"He was confused. He lost a lot of blood and nearly died."

"Was he the same man who helped you when you were shot?" Hudson ignored her effort at a re-direct.

"I didn't see his face," she explained, surprised but remaining calm.

"Let me be frank with you," Hudson said. "We can sit here, talking in circles for an hour if that's what you want. Or you can let me help you with the traumatic events that you experienced. You are the one in control here."

Just as the words left his lips Joss thought of Finch and Reese. They probably were listening to her at this very moment.

NO LONGER NINE

All moms have a look that instantly communicates: I am NOT amused and you better correct yourself. Joss was giving her son that look just now.

"You'll have to wait and see," Taylor said. He was a picture of serenity in the midst of the restaurant on a busy morning.

He sat across the booth from her grinning triumphantly. She hated surprises and he was enjoying her unease a little too much. She had really had enough of the men in her life not giving her information.

The men in her life? Men? Plural?

No. There was just Taylor…

And John…

And Finch…

And now even Fusco…Hmmm….She'd have to get used to that idea.

"Okay. But I am trusting you," she said. She held back interrogating him. He always bristled when he felt she was being Cop-Mom instead of just Mom.

He was suddenly fascinated by his eggs, not looking her in the eye.

"So, how's John?"

"He is fine, for now," she said, trying with effort to keep her voice neutral. "He had a run-in with the hospital emergency room a few days ago."

Since John had rescued him from Elias' men, Taylor had lots of questions. Exactly how much should she tell him? She liked to keep her work to herself, her way of protecting Taylor from the brutality of her profession. And John wasn't exactly an easy topic for her to approach.

"You want to go over your lines?" She said quickly, grabbing his copy of the community theatre script. _The Merchant of Venice_ by William Shakespeare was typed on the front in bold font. Taylor got a part in a teenaged adaption of the play.

Taylor wasn't swayed by her stalling tactic. He was uncharacteristically talkative this morning.

"I know my lines. Don't worry. So, he's a cop too?"

She laughed. John a cop! Enforcing the law was definitely not John's strong suit. She could easily see him in a cop's uniform; the dark blue would look good on him. She tried to check the sudden burst of affection that arrested her when she thought of him.

_Don't even go there._

_There is no "there" to go to…_

His face when she showed up at the hospital! It communicated complete shock, relief, and something else she couldn't quite pinpoint. She kept returning to it, trying to figure what that "something else" might have been, not daring to ask herself why she was doing it, or why it was worth this amount of her attention.

He _did_ save her son's life. As if saving her life and gunning down the person that had shot her wasn't enough. No, fate, or life, added the person she loved more than her own life to the "I Owe You, John" List. Her Angel of Death had become a Guardian Angel. It was reasonable to have some feelings for him. She was just feeling gratitude. That was it. It was nothing to be alarmed about.

"I have questions and there's nothing wrong with that," Taylor asserted.

"You're right. Well, John…helps people. I don't like lying to you. But unfortunately sweetheart, there's a lot I really can't share with you."

"Hmmm…I get it." He nodded. "He's some kind of spy? Undercover agent?"

"He's some kind of something," Joss offered.

"Mom, I'm not 9-years-old anymore. You know what I mean, right?"

She did. What he was actually saying had significance for them both. She could only nod as conflicting emotions struck her.

"We should have him over for dinner."

This was just getting better and better…

"I barely make dinner for you," She reminded him.

"True. But when you do it's great," he said sincerely.

"Boy, what am I going to do with you?"

Taylor only smiled. As much as she wanted to resist, he knew he would get his way this time.

MORE PANIC

"There's no use," Joss said and sat on the floor of the panic room and rested against the wall. "Come on, sit down." She tapped the empty space next to her.

John immediately dropped down beside her, to her surprise.

"You didn't eat any food in her house, did you?"

"No."

"Good. Don't need to have you dying on me."

He looked at her in surprise, like the fact she didn't want him to die was revolutionary. She knew he was thinking about their history. Not too long ago she used her best efforts to try to get him behind bars.

"Look how far we've come, Carter. You're kidnapping mob bosses. And I'm…"

"Leaving your old profession to become a nurse," Joss joked.

"Don't be sexist, Carter," John softly protested. "It's a very noble profession for a man or a woman."

Honestly, he looked quite fetching. The azure blue was brilliant against his dark and gray hair and made his eyes a deeper blue.

"You do have a habit of saving lives, and being at the right place, at the right time."

She never would have guessed that he would have turned out so helpful or that he could care at such depths and touch her own life so intimately.

They both were quiet, reflecting.

"I just can't thank you enough," Carter began. She turned to face him. "You have no idea…"

"This is not necessary," John protested as if she was reprimanding him instead of trying to show him her deep gratitude.

"Yes it is."

She brought her hand to his arm as she felt the compulsion to make contact, to touch him. Only later would she be able to acknowledge the growing connection they had shared. His muscles were tense, warm beneath the cool sleeve fabric, beneath her fingertips.

"Thank you. Thank you for bringing my son back. For bringing my baby back to me. I have a play to look forward to, instead of funeral and a lifetime of…misery. Thank you. And I will be thanking you untiI I can't anymore. And even then I'll haunt you from beyond. So get used to it. You're kind of stuck with me," she teased.

"As you wish, but I think I'm getting the better part of that deal."

NIGHTY RITUAL

She hadn't planned on being a single mom. She wished more power and best wishes to the women who did, but she'd always had a different plan. Taylor's father had been everything she had wanted, but somehow greater. The levels of trust and intimacy she hadn't previously realized were real. She thought all that soulmate nonsense was…well, nonsense. But he had changed her mind.

Then like the blowing out of a candle – life was gone. He was gone and darkness had taken his place.

"Every night, in the last couple of weeks, I found myself there,' she was explaining to Dr. Hudson. She hadn't done the ritual since Taylor was a kid. "I just sit stone-still on the edge of his bed, in the dark, and I watch him. I marvel at the simple miracle of him breathing," her eyes burned with the start of fresh tears. "It's my ritual. He is alive, and at home. No one would guess that he almost died."

"Who took him?"

"The most powerful mob boss in the city. Killing Taylor would have been just another item on his to-do list. It's was business as usual for him."

The look of relief and disbelief on Taylor's face when John returned him would never leave her. The expression on John's face, also, would rise up to the surface, refusing to be forgotten. A fresh batch of anger came to sooth away the tears. Eventually, that was only quenched by the equally warm, acute feeling of simple gratitude.

All the people they had helped must have felt this way. The doubts she had about John was significantly diminished. His lack of respect for the law would be difficult to handle and she didn't see him changing that overnight. However, he was a good man where it counted.

"How did you get him back? It really is a miracle."

"I didn't do it alone. I can tell you that much."

(TO BE CONTINUED…)**

Disclaimer: Regarding characters related to the television show Person of Interest. I DO NOT OWN PERSON OF INTEREST or its characters. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and with the creative affection of a fan. No profit was made from this work. No copyright infringement intended.

©2013 This is an original work of Shoetingstar (this author's pen name). All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author. All such requests should be emailed to Shoetingstar through this site.


	2. Chapter 2

TRY  
A Carter/Reese Story

By shoetingstar

CHAPTER 2 PANIC AGAIN

"Nice attempt to change the subject," John, was saying.

It had been a couple of hours. They were way past formalities. The talk became more personal in the rambling of time.

"Okay…You got me," she admitted. "Let's see…When Taylor was 9, I brought home a date. First time since I lost his father…I'll never forget how he reacted, how he looked at me. It was like I had betrayed him."

"Understandable. It is difficult for a kid."

"Definitely. We've both grown-up since then."

"Have you started dating again?"

"No. Find me the time."

"We make time, don't we?"

She considered his statement.

"And you?" She shot back.

"We have crazy hours. And there are risks, for me."

"Looks like we're both afraid."

He didn't disagree with her assessment.

"Eventually. I don't want to end up a crazy old lady. Alone. Poisoning folks." She frowned, worried.

John chuckled. "That's not going to happen. You're more of the shooting-type."

"Aww, thanks for that…"

_You're not alone, Joss._

That was one of the few times he'd actually called her by her first name.

"Speaking of bad guys," Carter said suddenly. "Taylor auditioned to play the bad guy. But they said he wasn't ready. Still, it's huge that he got even a small part."

"He wanted to be Shylock? You think Shylock is the bad guy?"

"Shakespeare certainly did. And he was incredibly racist about it."

"I don't see him that way."

"He literally wanted a pound of his flesh from Antonio. I would be hunting this guy down."

"I don't think he would have gone through with it," His voice had an odd quality. "He just wanted justice."

"That's why we have laws," she said firmly. "You're big on Shakespeare?"

John shrugged. "Easy way to impress girls," he said. "I don't know…The Merchant of Venice. The friendship between the two guys – Antonio and Bassanio. That's what stayed with me. No one betrayed anyone. They were just good friends."

"Good friends who were rescued by a woman," Carter added proudly.

"Portia," John agreed thoughtfully. "Yeah, they needed her didn't they? Bessanio needed her. That's what started all the trouble."

"And that's why I don't date. It always brings the trouble and stupidity," Joss said. "Bessanio was a bit of a knuckle-head. His character frustrates me."

"There had to be something good about him. Antonio stuck by him. Portia loved him."

"Or they were just blind to his faults."

"Or they were aware of his faults but still cared for him."

"You have a lot of excuses for some unsavory characters."

"Sympathy," he turned to her. "I wouldn't be here if someone didn't have it for me."

"Here, locked in a panic room while a crazy old lady is on the loose?" She joked.

Reese had to laugh.

"Yeah, what do I know?" he added.

There was a pause and then:

I THOUGHT THAT WAS A FAIR ASSESSMENT MR. REESE. GREAT POINTS, ALSO, DETECTIVE CARTER.

Finch's voice boomed through the room.

"How are you doing that?" Carter shouted.

I COULD EXPLAIN BUT I'D RATHER GET YOU OUT OF THERE IF YOU DON'T MIND DETECTIVE. I AM SURE TAYLOR WOULD APPRECIATE THAT. MR. REESE, KATHERINE NORANGE HAS BEEN APPREHENDED. HER INTENDED VICTIM IS SAFE, THOUGH A BIT RATTLED.

They heard noise at the security keypad, and then the door of the panic room popped open.

They were free.

GETTING PRETTY

"I have 30 minutes to get pretty!" Joss said, bolting from the car to her house.

John hurried after her. "I really hate to ask this. But I have a date tonight…"

That stopped her in tracks.

"You mind if I change here? I sort of have plans."

"With Finch?"

"No. She's not Finch."

"Oh," Joss said, flustered. "That's the reason for all the relationship talk…? I thought you weren't ready?"

She opened her front door and shrugged. "You know what – it's none of my business. Come in."

CURTAIN CALL

"Break a leg!" Carter was so proud of Taylor and tried not to embarrass him too much in front of the other kids.

He smiled but seemed distracted.

"Be right back."

Like most kids his age he was texting someone. She waited impatiently, when her own phone began to buzz in her purse. It was the "bat phone" John had given her.

(John)

_Whatcha doin Carter?_

(Carter)

_I think u know. _

(pause)

How's the date?

…

(John)

Dramatic

(Carter)

Oops too bad, good luck!

(John)

_Tell him to break a leg_

(Carter)

_I will. Thanks._

(John)

_Actually…I can…_

Taylor was suddenly pulling her toward the stage curtain.

"Your surprise is here!"

He parted the heavy scarlet curtain and urged her to look. She looked up, out into the buzz of people finding seats and chatting. There was the particular electric pulse, the anticipation that only happens just before the first act of the play and the actors finally took the stage. There was John, in the left aisle. She had no idea how he tailed people. He stood out to her like no one else. He had a certain vibe. No, that wasn't quite it. Besides, she wasn't blind. She made a point of ignored how attractive he was, mostly…usually. There were those times, discussing a case, when he would tilt his head and look at her a certain way, or give her one of his rare smiles. Then any thought related to work was momentarily suspended and breaking eye contact was necessary.

He gave them a little wave, and patiently waited: a calm current that hid a potentially devastating storm. Yes. Devastating. Especially his eyes – they always said enough – yet never betrayed him completely. Even when he was first brought into her precinct, a bum by all appearances, his eyes held her curiosity.

Her phone buzzed again. She took a quick peek.

(John)

_Actually…I can tell him myself_

The, after a pause…

(John)

_Good job getting pretty Carter._

She looked down at her simple but chic plum cocktail dress. It was definitely different from her boring cop wardrobe. She quickly retreated behind the safety of the closed curtain. "Taylor Michael Carter!" She said in that _what-the-hell-were-you-thinking-boy _tone.

"We've sort of kept in touch," he confessed, reluctantly.

Initially this new information was a slight blow to Joss, though she wished it was not the case. Yet, another example of the many things she did not know about her own son lately. Her mind knew it was normal. The assertion of his own independence was preferable to releasing a cowardly mamma's boy into the world. Still, there was a pulling of her heart at these moments. It was too familiar, too similar to loss, to the cut of another severed tie.

However, it was John, Taylor's new hero. And her friend…? She didn't know what else to call him.

"How often does someone save our life? You always talk about being grateful. I just wanted…to let him know I'm okay. I was worth the effort. What's wrong with that?"

He didn't even know about John coming to her aid. She knew exactly what he meant. It was the dilemma of having your life handed back to you and the responsibility that comes with it. She was raising a thoughtful young man.

The director of the play was trying to get everyone's attention. The show was starting soon.

"I'm proud of you. She said before heading down the stairs and out into the auditorium. "And have fun, okay?"

WHAT ABOUT JAY?

The amount of attention Hudson was giving to this particular subject scared Joss. He was always attentive but discussing her love life and John (or "Jay" as she'd called him), seemed to peak his interest.

"So this new information," he was saying. "…Is pretty huge. What are we thinking?"

"I'm thinking I need to be careful," she returned.

"As in…?"

"Just…I have a bigger picture of who he is – the person he was and the person he is now. It's a lot to take in."

She didn't add that she had kept an actual picture of John with his ex-girlfriend. She couldn't begin to explain it, but only knew that shredding that evidence of John's past life was impossible. It seemed almost sacrilegious to abandon that vision of John with a genuinely, happy smile on his handsome face. He looked normal. They looked like a normal, attractive, and happy couple. It was the John that Joss would have met before the CIA had done its dirty work on him.

"Last time we talked you were flirting with possible feelings for "Jay."

"You mean I was flirting with danger?" Joss joked.

"Is it real danger or your fight to remain unaffected…Your struggle to not be vulnerable?"

"There is real trouble. We both have dangerous…professions."

"That could be a possible place of understanding."

"But he is reckless, stubborn and…I don't want to understand him, dammit," she added in exasperation.

"Hmm….Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves - Carl Jung," Dr. Hudson offered, smiling. "Perhaps this Jay is not the person for you. And that's perfectly fine. However, if you do want to be with someone you will have to try, my brave Detective."

"Try? That's it? That's your professional advice?"

"It's a start."

MORE CURTAIN CALL: BETTER THAN NOT

She found her seat – front row, center. She began chatting with the mom next to her.

"This seat taken?" John's calm voice said behind her.

Joss turned, stood, straightened her shoulders, and cleared her throat.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was sworn to secrecy," John said, holding his hand to his heart in his own defense.

He was freshly showered, and dressed in a clean suit, with dark blue button-up. His warm, masculine cologne intoxicated her senses. Dear Moses, he looked good. They looked good together. Together. Them. Huh…?

She introduced Ivy, a good friend and the mom of another performer who was sitting on the other side. (Ivy looked from Joss, up to John with interest. Her deep brown eyes sparkled with questions she answered without Ms. Carter's help. Joss displayed a hesitant eagerness she'd never seen before. The tall, dark and handsome dude had deftly scanned her from head to toe with appreciation.)

They sat down.

Where did she even start?

Did he attend many plays? Did he have a favorite? Why had he been talking to her son? What the hell did they talk about?

"You didn't ask about the date," John whispered. "You weren't curious about?"

_Of course I was_, she thought.

The lights were dimming. Start time. She changed the subject.

"Kind of risky being here, don't you think? The FBI is now on that long list of people that want you."

"Who are the other names on that list?" He asked pointedly.

This really meant something to him!

"You know. They never stopped looking for you."

He looked away. "I have a back-up plan. Finch says hi. I think he's miffed he didn't get an invite. Oh, he didn't want me to share that. Sorry, Finch."

"Next time?" Joss offered.

The lights were dimmed.

"Well, however you got here John, thanks for coming. It means a lot to Taylor."

His hand found hers, and held on for the briefest of seconds. Again, his calm storm had tamed her inner concern, for the time being. None of her family had been able to make it. If she was brave enough to be honest with herself she would acknowledge it was better having him here, next to her, than not. It was quite nice.

AFTER

Taylor had been wonderful. The play had gone well and the cast received a standing ovation from the community theater crowd.

"We're going to dinner to celebrate," Carter said to John, on her way to see Taylor.

"I know…" he said. He was enjoying this little game.

"What else did you and Taylor talk about?"

"Oh…The weather. Science…Computers…"

She rolled her eyes. As usual, she wasn't going to get any straight answers.

"I'll meet you there," he said, getting up to leave.

"He's bringing friends. You sure you ready to hang out with a group of teenagers?

"Will you be there?"

Her eyebrows rose in interest.

"Then I'll be fine," he continued. "Also, I need you to go by the box office before you leave."

"A case?"

"Not exactly."

Then he was gone.

A BIT LATER…

"Why am I not surprised?" Joss said aloud about the Call of Duty: Black Ops V shooting game John had left at the box office for Taylor.

However, the one John left for her was a welcome surprise. The bouquet of deep, velvet orange roses was enormous. Like a crowded group of little admirers giving a standing ovation. The various shades of orange were amazing. Gorgeous. Devastating.

A FEW WEEKS LATER

Carter read the story from her cellphone and then called John.

Mystery Restaurant Customer Comes To Rescue of Special-Needs Child

"Well, John. That was the most interesting first date I've ever had. First time I went to dinner and my date ended up in the news."

"Slight complication," he said matter-of-factly. She could hear his labored breathing as he walked. "Unfortunately, complete jerks don't take a night off."

Her cab was pulling up to the address.

"I wanted to cheer when you punched that guy. I just hope the FBI doesn't read the New York Daily News."

"Let's hope, Carter."

"By the way, when are you going to use my first name?"

"I didn't know I had permission," he teased.

"Never stopped you before," she paid the driver and wiggled out of the cab.

"Here's a plan: my place, we order take out, and just relax."

Her strappy heels click-clacked on the pavement. She was in front of an impressive building. A park was across the street.

"Just relax, huh? Where did you send me?"

She expected one of his evasive answers, but nothing as distracting as his actual response.

"Could I kiss you and answer that later?"

A heated energy radiated through her, but she said, "You think I could let you get away with that?"

She turned to find him walking up the sidewalk toward her. He directed her toward the front entry as he unlocked the door. Before they touched the first step he stopped her. She could smell his familiar, welcoming scent, faint but still welcoming. His eyes were brilliant, intense. His hand snaking around her waist beneath her jacket momentarily overwhelmed her.

"Carter…" There was an extra huskiness in his voice

"John."

"Jocelyn."

"John, I think…"

"Joss."

_Sonofabitch. Think. Thoughts. What was thinking, again?_

He stepped forward, backing her onto the wall near the staircase. The rational part of her whispered sense to her, but the human, warm-blooded female portion of her was louder, more forgiving, surrendered.

His hand was still at her waist, the other one was tilting her chin, bringing her lip closer. His lips were a gentle caress. This first kiss was surprisingly gentle, slow like they had all the time in the world. She could feel the tension beneath her fingertips, the heat of his skin beneath his dress shirt. He was holding back.

He stopped suddenly and got that faraway look she knew so well. "Everything is fine, Finch," he said, through some labored breathing. Joss was wiggling herself away from his frame, but he held on and pulled her back to him.

His eyes pleaded with her.

_Please. Stay._

He brought her hand to his lips, kissed the palm of her hand.

"Carter is…?" John looked at her for an answer.

"In SO much trouble..." Joss finished.

"She's well. You mind if I take the night off?" He said, holding back a chuckle. His eyes scanned her for agreement. Her breath quickened, her cheeks felt hot.

"So…We're going to try?" John said, after he hung up with Finch.

_You will have to try, my brave Detective_, Dr. Hudson had said before.

She was taken about. How much had John (and Finch?) heard?

"Together?" John, pressed.

She would have a strong, serious talk with him about being in her business. Later.

"What are you waiting for," Joss said and proceeded up the stairs. John was not far behind.

**THE END**

Disclaimer: Regarding characters related to the television show Person of Interest. I DO NOT OWN PERSON OF INTEREST or its characters. This story was written for entertainment purposes only and with the creative affection of a fan. No profit was made from this work. No copyright infringement intended.

©2013 This is an original work of Shoetingstar (this author's pen name). All Rights Reserved. This story may not be reproduced in any manner, without the express permission of the author. All such requests should be emailed to Shoetingstar through this site.


End file.
